The whine of Tattletale’s gun reached a crescendo, and a blindingly bright arc of electricity flew from the side of the barrel to skip along the floor.
That doesn’t look like something the gun’s supposed to do.
I worried it would ignite something, but it winked out before it could.
Ah, good.
Tattletale lunged for the shelf next to the magazines, grabbing a head-and-torso model of Miss Militia. She jammed it in between the trigger and the trigger guard of her gun, forcing the trigger into a depressed position.
Aw, poor trigger. Kid Win, you need to get your gun some therapy.
But, uh, is this actually a good idea to do? It seems the gun is overexerted already, I’m not sure you should be pushing it much more. You already got the metal bars down, did you not?
Then she lobbed the setup over the back of the shattered bookshelf. The lightning licked the wall and the ceiling before the gun crashed to the floor. Dragon lurched back to get away from it.
…ah, fair enough. That works!
Krixwell Liveblogs 